


a turning of the page

by ridasverkisto



Category: Black Clover - Tabata Yuki (Anime & Manga), Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Time & Explorers of Darkness & Explorers of Sky
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon-Typical Memory Loss, more character tags will be added as needed, not steven universe fusion to be clear, same with relationship tags, the MC is a bit clueless but that's okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ridasverkisto/pseuds/ridasverkisto
Summary: I thunk my head on the back of the chair.Maybe Perap had been right when he said it was always the two of us who got into trouble.Or: Rei wakes up, healing after a terrible injury. There's only one problem: they weren't supposed to.
Relationships: Partner Pokemon & Pukurin no Guild | Wigglytuff's Guild
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. 0.1: prelude

_ Light--empty--drifting-- _

A flash. A voice.

_ “I don’t want to say goodbye!” _

_ Oh--oh, Az--I don’t-- _

Stretching, popping, tearing.

_ Pain. _

_ Make it stop! _

The void seems to roar in its silence, creeping. Aching.

**_I WILL TRUST YOU WITH...A GIFT._ **

The echoing authority splits the silence. Familiar, painful, absolute.

**_I LEAVE TO YOU--THE FUTURE!_ **

A surge of power, raw and violent. A brilliant light--flaring--

When it fades, something has changed.

\---

I’ll admit. I never expected to wake up again.

Well. Never expected to  _ exist _ again is probably more accurate. What happens, when you vanish from existence? I’d thought it would be a sort of--I don’t know, pop? Fading, existing without a body until you finally just sort of  _ poof _ out of existence. Like going to sleep.

This--this was not that.

Granted, the beginning to disappear part had hurt too. Like something was grabbing at every part of me, and beginning to pick me apart piece by piece, accompanied by the bone-gut- _ soul _ deep sense that something was  _ wrong _ .

This...wasn’t that either.

Don’t get me wrong--it hurts like hell, right now, but not in the same...soul-deep way vanishing had, at first. 

Less like I was being taken apart and more like I’d been thrown into several walls. Repeatedly.

I could vaguely hear voices, as if from far away, even as I floated-lay-sat there, feeling the ocean of unconsciousness receding  _ just-so _ .

“--she’s alive, but whatever happened before she was brought here, it wasn’t pleasant.”

“At least she’s alive.”

“Yes. And stable now, for what it’s worth. Oh, my--look at the time--I should go start on dinner--!”

“We started on it while you were working, don’t worry--the kids are helping too. Why don’t you go check on them?”

“I--yes. Thank you, Father.”

Footsteps receding. A cool hand touches my forehead, and I  _ want _ to recoil but my body--doesn’t. Too-heavy limbs and eyelids, swallowing me whole under their weight.

“I wonder...what happened to you, to bring you to our doorstep so badly hurt?”

Exhaustion wraps around me, dragging me back under even as I reach for consciousness, pushing back against the stone-heavy weights of my body, of the aching pain in my limbs. 

_ Wait--! _

Black.

~~~

The next time I become...aware, it’s no longer quite so...floating. Heavy? 

Whatever. I still  _ hurt _ , but nowhere near the pain I was in before. My body feels less like a hollow-numb deadweight and more like...well. A body.

My fingers twitch as I push at the last, thin veil of unconsciousness between me and the world.

_ Ow. _

The first thing I notice, as I open my eyes, is  _ bright. _

I blink, squinting as I wait for the spots to stop. As they do, I find myself staring up at a simple, slanted roof, all wooden planks and beams.

_...a bed? _

The sheets under my hands are coarse, worn soft by years of use and wear. Motes of dust dance in the shafts of light coming through the window beside the bed, and I just—take a moment.  _ Breathe. _

_ I never thought I’d see this again. _

My muscles ache as I push myself up into a sitting position, and I wince. My side twinges stiffly, the sharp prickly of pain reminding me of the burning that had sat there not-so-long-ago.

The room I’m in is—bare. Sparse. A bed, a chair, a small bedside table. White sheets and dark wood floors.

_ [two-entrances, in-out, here-and-not—] _

_ Breathe _ .

I relax my mana, allowing the sense of the room to fall into the easy background hum of information it had taken me  _ weeks  _ to manage.

_ At least I haven’t lost that. _

“Oh!”

My eyes snap open, and I meet the green eyes of a woman, standing in the doorway—otherside of the threshold. Her face is—surprised? Shocked?

“You’re awake!” she exclaims, stepping into the room, smiling. “We were beginning to worry you wouldn’t.”

Her eyes are kind. Warm.

_ Like Flora’s when— _

I swallow the lump in my throat, eyes burning.

“Where am I?” I ask instead, voice creaking from disuse.

The woman looks up, hood still firmly over her hair as she places her bowl of water on the side table.

“You’re in the Church of Hage Village,” she explains. “One of the villagers found you in the fields, terribly injured, and rushed you here to be treated.”

I blink. Hage Village? 

_ Looks like I’m still setting a trend, huh? _

I resist the urge to snort. New trend: waking up in places you don’t know, not remembering how the hell you got there. 0/10, would  _ not _ recommend.

“—happened?”

I jolt, realizing that she’d still been talking. 

“Huh?” I say, so-very-intelligently. She laughs.

“Do you remember what happened?” she repeats patiently. “How you got hurt?”

_ Pain, terror—determination—I will not lose—! _

I stare at her for a long moment. “...yeah.”

She pauses, but seems to take my silence as answer enough.

“You’ve been unconscious for almost two weeks,” she continues, reaching out a hand to place on my brow. “We really were getting worried you wouldn’t wake. Hmm—no fever, either.”

She pulls her hand back, humming. “I need to check your injuries,” she says after a moment of silence. “And then we can get you cleaned up and fed, how does that sound?”

My stomach chose that precise moment to growl.  _ Loudly. _

“Good, apparently,” I say into the quiet, and the woman breaks into charming, bubbly laughter.

“Wonderful! Now then, let’s get those bandages off.”

As she peels the bandages off my torso, I find myself looking down at my hands as she hums and chatters about nothing in particular, apparently not minding my silence.

I flinch as she presses cool fingers to my side, gently probing the aching, swollen pink of fresh scar tissue. It’s—not pretty. The edges are scarred, pink-and-silvery, while the center of the wound is still scabbed over, hot and shooting with pain as her fingers probe at the edges of it.

I bite back the hot-fresh-razor-sharp memories of how I got it, instead breathing deeply, swallowing the pain.

“It’s better,” she says encouragingly. “My magic can only do so much for such terrible wounds, but it’s been healing a little more with each session.”

“Good,” I manage, swallowing against the sparks of pain. “Hey—what’s your name?” 

_ Distraction, distraction, distraction. Don’t think about it. _

She looks up, startled. “Oh! Oh dear. I’m Sister Lily Aquaria,” she says, smiling. Her hands light with mana as she sits back, lifting her—Grimoire, right? Gods, I wish I’d paid more attention when Perap had been explaining—and casting  _ some  _ kind of spell.

Gentle blue light glows around my side, and it feels—cool. Soothing. Like cold river water on a hot summer day, fresh from the springs.

“This may take a bit,” she says apologetically. I shrug, hissing as it yanks at the wound.

“Ow!”

“Careful!” Lily—Sister Lily?—makes an aborted motion to touch my shoulder. “Please, don’t injure yourself further.”

“Not trying to,” I respond drily. “I rather like not being in pain, y’know?”

She laughs. “So—I’ve shared my name, but I don’t have yours,” she says meaningfully.

I pause. 

Names.

Right.

“Rei,” I supply after a moment, looking back at her. “My name’s Rei.”

“Just Rei?” she tilts her head curiously. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, Just Rei,” she says lightly, eyes sparkling, “It’s nice to meet you—after two weeks,” she adds, as an afterthought.

I can’t help it. I smile back, feeling the familiar pull at my lips and cheek from the old scar there.

“Nice to meet you too.”

~~~

After finally— _ finally _ —getting cleaned off, I sit back, toweling my hair dry as Lily brings in a pile of clothes, eyeing me as she holds up some of them speculatively before putting them aside.

“You’re very thin,” she comments, frowning thoughtfully. “I thought maybe some of my clothes might work, but…”

_...you’re short. _

As we’d discovered when she was helping me wash, I was several inches taller than her—which made any clothes from her likely to be an odd fit.

Lily pulls out an old blue sweater, frowning thoughtfully. “This is one of Yuno’s old hand-me-downs, it might be a bit large—here, try it on.”

I catch the sweater before it smacks me in the face, carefully tugging it on over my head, mindful of my newly wrapped side.

It sits just this side of too large, and I have to roll the sleeves back, but—it fits. 

“Oh, wonderful!” Lily claps her hands. “Let me see if I can find some trousers—oh, and smallclothes—“

I wince, flushing. “That’s really not—“

“Yours were burned,” Lily interrupts me matter-of-factly. “You haven’t needed any, since you’ve been unconscious, but now...and besides, they’re all quite clean, I promise.”

I look away, cheeks still burning. “I understand.”

In short order I find myself outfitted with a pair of old, patched trousers—also apparently from this Yuno person—and Lily beams at me as she produces a simple wooden comb.

“I can comb my hair,” I say hastily, flapping my hands defensively. Lily laughs. 

“I wouldn’t say otherwise,” she teases, passing me the comb. “I need to go check on the children—it’s almost lunchtime, please, wait here and I’ll have someone come fetch you once it’s ready.”

I blink. “Uh—okay.”

_ Food, yes please! _

My stomach gurgles loudly once again, and Lily laughs. 

“It sounds like we’re in agreement! It shouldn’t be long,” she assures, walking out of the room, leaving the door open behind her. 

Mechanically, I start combing my hair, wincing as it catches on the tangles. 

Now that I’m alone, it’s—a lot harder to ignore the gaping absence at my side.

_ Az… _

Yearning, hot and aching and  _ hopeless _ rises in my chest. Azeria’s absence feels like a gaping pit in my chest, a hole at my side—more than once I had already found myself turning to look for her reaction only to remember.

_ I had to. It was the only way! _

But even knowing that…

_ It hurts. _

I sigh, giving up on combing out the tangles and leaning back, staring blindly up at the ceiling.

“What was the point, anyway?” I ask the silence, feeling the burn of tears pricking at my eyes. “If you’re not here, then I—“

I cut myself off, swallowing.

_ It was worth it. _

_ She’s alive, the future is changed— _

“Heavy is the cost,” I whisper, blinking back the hot tears. “Fuck.”

_ I miss you. _

~~~

As it turns out, the one who comes to fetch me for lunch is a kid. A calm kid, but a kid.

Didn’t Lily say something about kids? Eh.

“So, Sister Lily told me to come get you,” he says after a moment of us just. Staring awkwardly at each other. “She...said you might need help?”

I open my mouth to disagree, because  _ no, I don’t need help to walk, thank you very much! _ Except then I remembered my side. And the fact that I’d been unconscious for two weeks, and when Lily had helped me up to start helping me wash—well. My knees had buckled quite awesomely.

I shut my mouth again. 

“...sure,” I say instead, setting the comb aside and carefully manoeuvring myself to stand, ignoring the pinch in my side. 

The kid steps closer, purple eyes wary, and I slowly lever myself to my feet. 

My legs tremble under me, and I grit my teeth. 

_ Fuck, this is almost as bad as last time! _

I let go of the bed, and my legs shake, my knees feel like jelly—but I’m still standing. 

I smirk victoriously, just a little, because I’ve gotta take my victories where I can, y’know?

Feeling more confident, I try to take a step forward, not quite standing straight, but close enough—

The kid ends up catching me before I hit the floor face first, snorting. My side aches, twinging where the fall yanked at the edges of the wound.

“And now I see why.”

“Shhhhh,” I mutter, reluctantly letting him help me stand up and lean on his shoulder to walk slowly. “Don’t you know it’s rude to be mean to your elders?”

“All I see is a skinny bag of bones,” he retorts without thinking, before realizing what he just said. 

I snort. “You’re not wrong,” I agree. “Skinny bag of bones, that’s me.”

He relaxes under my hand even as we keep walking, smiling reluctantly.

We finally make it into the main room—hall? Uh. Something. I look around at the relief on one end, opposite the doors. Clearly important—maybe religious? 

Wait, hadn’t Flora once gone on a rant about the religions in the area? Something about “One True God” versus “many gods” and something or other?

I resist the urge to go back in time and throttle younger-me for not listening more carefully. I hadn’t known I’d end up in some sort of...religious thing? A church, that’s what Lily had called it. 

A church.

Anyway.

If I’d  _ known— _ well. I’d have paid more attention, I guess. Flora’s weird rants had turned out to be useful other times too, why hadn’t I paid attention?!

The kid guides me through the hall, to a doorway on the other side. Going through, there’s a long table and chairs, and the heavenly aroma of  _ food _ .

My stomach growls loudly, and I wince. The kid laughs. 

“Hungry?”

“Apparently,” I agree ruefully. “I suppose two weeks can do that.”

The kid helps me sit in one of the chairs, and I wave him off. 

“How much trouble can I get into, sitting here?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. 

The kid snorts. “You’d be surprised.”

“Then I await it eagerly, now go see—er, Lily?” I trail off, realizing that I...didn’t really know how to refer to her.

“Sister Lily,” he corrects. “She’s a woman of the cloth, so she’s a sister.”

I blink. 

_ The hell does that mean? _

“Sister Lily,” I agree, feeling awkward. The kid nods, but pauses as he turns to leave.

“Oh. I’m Nash,” he adds awkwardly. 

Awkwardness party, yay. Feel my suffering.

“I’m Rei,” I return, and apparently satisfied, he heads into—the kitchen? I guess? Wherever the smell of food was coming from.

_ Gods, I’m hungry. _

Wait. Is thinking of multiple gods in a place that may worship One Singular God offensive? Uh, what’s the word...blasphemous? 

Oh hells.

_ Sorry if I offended you...uh, one singular god guy? _

I thunk my head on the back of the chair.

Maybe Perap had been right when he said it was always the two of us who got into trouble.

~~~

Lunch, it turns out, is both wonderful smelling food and full of loud, noisy,  _ messy _ children. Toddlers. Babies? 

How was I supposed to know, being in an Exploration Team didn’t mean I spent a lot of time around tiny people!

Well, it sort of did, Perap is  _ short _ , but still.

The food is—well. It’s not the most amazing food I’ve ever had, the snacks that Ruri and Merill had brought me and Az took first place there. But! It’s food.

Yeah it’s kind of bland and dry, but honestly the travel rations that Chirean packed for us for the expedition had been worse.

It’s food! And I’m  _ starving. _

“It’s not going to vanish!” A bright male voice, laughing. “But please, eat up—I imagine you’re hungry!”

I look up, licking my lips, and flushing when I realize that Lily— _ Sister _ Lily—and an old man are both laughing and watching me.

“Uh. Sorry,” I manage, pulling back, but Sister Lily waves a hand, smiling.

“No, no, please—eat as much as you like.”

I blink, before glancing at my—shit, my second portion? Something like that. I’d sort of lost track of time for a moment.

“Then—don’t mind if I do?” I start back into the food, and after a moment the old man points his fork at me.

“Say, young man, what’s your name? I’m Father Orsi Orfai,” he adds hastily. 

I look up, mouth full of—potato? Nomotato? Whatever—but before I can say a word Sister Lily breaks in.

“ _ Her  _ name is Rei, Father,” she says calmly, and the old man—Father...Orsi?—chokes on his own mouthful.

“Ah—ah, I see,” he manages, coughing as Sister Lily pats his back. “My sincere apologies, Miss Rei.”

I swallow, clearing my throat. “Uh...no problem?” 

I don’t really see the issue. Does it really matter whether someone calls me Miss or Mister? 

“Now then, I have more questions. I must ask—do you know how you came to be in that field?”

_ The void, deafening in its silence. Authority, a declaration of so-shall-it-be, my will be done! _

**_I LEAVE TO YOU--THE FUTURE!_ **

I swallow, hard, the pulse of blood like a roaring in my ears. I look up, and abruptly realize the table has gone silent. Sister Lily and Father Orsi, watching me.

“I don’t,” I say quietly. “I...the last thing I remember, I was somewhere very different.”

The oldest girl breaks in, leaning forward curiously. “Where?”

“Recca!” Sister Lily chides, and Recca pouts.

“I’m just  _ asking _ .”

“I—somewhere far away,” I explain softly, seeing the cool, strange vistas of the Hidden Land in my mind once again, the Temporal Tower and the rock bridge. “It’s a hidden place, far across the sea.”

A Strong Magic Region, Massko had called it, requiring the aid of Laplace to reach it safely, across the Sea of Time.

I could still almost  _ taste _ the way that mana had scraped at my mind, eerie and calm all at once.

The ever present sense of a clock ticking, time flowing by without care for the tiny mortal lives below.

“It sounds like you’ve traveled far,” Father Orsi murmurs into the hush, breaking me from my reverie. “Please, eat your fill—the rest of you can save your questions for after, patience is a virtue!” he adds, looking at the eager group of children.

I nod, and turn back to the food, but...my appetite is gone.

The Hidden Land, the Temporal Tower—the rock bridge away, leading back to the Rainbow Stoneship. 

Massko, dragging Reumo through the portal with him.

Azeria, begging me not to go.

_ I wonder, are you out there, somewhere? _

_ Are you happy? Alive? _

I swallow, thinking of Selebi and Massko, of Selebi’s soft eyes and warm voice speaking to him.

_ Are you okay? In love? _

I blink away the tears.

_ I hope you are. Wherever you are. _

_ Please. _

~~~

“What do you think?” Father Orsi asks Sister Lily, finally, pulling her aside while the children ply their new guest with hundreds of questions and overflowing excitement.

“She doesn’t mean any harm,” Sister Lily says immediately. “But…”

He nods. “She’s lost a great deal.”

“I wonder how she got there,” she muses, watching their guest thoughtfully. “And how she got hurt.”

“We’ll see,” he says, patting her shoulder. “For now, we can only do what we can.”

“Yes, thank you,” Sister Lily nods. “Father...have you heard any word back about her Grimoire?”

He stops, looking away. 

Since finding the girl a bloody, crumpled mess in one of the fields, they’d gone through her belongings—sparse as they were—and discovered that her Grimoire was missing. 

They’d searched the fields, scouring high and low—after all, losing your Grimoire like that, it’s a terrible thing, and none should rightfully wish it upon another. And yet, for days of searching—nothing.

Not a trace of wherever her Grimoire was.

“No,” Father Orsi admits quietly. “We’ve found nothing. Only what was with her when she was brought to us.”

Sister Lily swallows and nods, sadness turning her gaze dark. “I see. Thank you, Father.”

“We’ll make it through, just as we always have,” he reassures her. “Just as I’m sure she will.”

“Still, to lose your Grimoire…”

“All will be well,” he repeats, and Sister Lily finally smiles at him.

“Yes,” she agrees. “It will.”


	2. 0.2: prelude

It’s a little later that afternoon when Sister Lily rescues me from the clutches of the tiny energetic balls of clamouring chaos called children, leading them away outside and leaving me with Father Orsi.

I stretch carefully, feeling exhaustion beginning to weigh down my limbs again. Figures that once I finally got food in my belly I’d get sleepy again. Ugh.

“So...I guess you’re gonna ask me those questions now,” I say quietly. 

Father Orsi smiles ruefully. “You got me. First--who did this to you?” he gestures to--well, all of me. But I understand. 

_Who hurt you? Who hurt you so terribly?_

“I--” I pause. How do I explain? _Oh yeah, you see, I fought a god that was going insane and won, but I nearly died in the process and then got wiped from existence because I’m from the future._ Yeah, right.

Father Orsi just--sits. Patiently, waiting for me to continue. 

“It’s complicated,” I settle on, finally. “I was...fighting someone. For good reason, and that’s how I was injured.”

“Who,” Father Orsi presses, and I sigh.

“You don’t know them,” I tell him quietly. “Their name is Dialga. They were...they weren’t well. And in order to help them, I had to fight them first.”

Father Orsi mulls that over for a long moment, but nods. “I see. And you don’t know how you ended up in the field?”

I shake my head. “No. As I said, the last I remember, I was--” _saying goodbye to my partner, to Azeria, who was begging me to stay_ \-- “very far away, as I said. To be honest, I’ve never even heard of Hage Village.”

Father Orsi laughs. “You’re not the only one, there! We’re pretty far out in the boonies, so most people who aren’t from around here barely even know we exist.”

I smile wanly. 

“My other question is--do you know where your Grimoire is? We’ve scoured the fields you were found in, and your belongings, but we can’t find it at all. I was hoping that you may have…” he trails off, noticing the vaguely confused look on my face.

“Why would I have a Grimoire?” I ask, frowning.

“I--” he seems taken aback.

We stare at each other for a long moment.

Granted, Perap had questioned it before--but, it’d never really amounted to anything. There wasn’t a...Grimoire Library-thingy anywhere conveniently near the Guild, and by the time we’d thought about sending me to one it had already been too late in the game to do it. 

Initially, everyone had just assumed I’d _had one_ but lost it, because I couldn’t remember where it was. 

Later, we found out I had just--never gotten one.

“I--you _are_ older than fifteen, correct?” he asks finally, scratching at his beard.

I shrug. “I think so. I’m around seventeen, I think?”

Father Orsi stares at me again. “You... _think_.”

I blink back at him, feeling a little taken aback myself.

Granted, the Grimoire thing is something I’m more than used to, but--of course I wasn’t really sure of my own age? I didn’t even remember my birthday or family, of course I didn’t remember my age.

“Yeah,” I confirm hesitantly.

“You don’t know how old you are?” he asks carefully, and I shrug, wincing as the movement pulls at my side. 

“Not really?”

He takes a deep breath, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Alright. You don’t know your own age, and you--apparently don’t have a Grimoire. Was it taken from you, do you know?”

“No,” I say, watching him carefully. “I just...never had one.”

He stops. Takes a deep breath.

Puts his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees.

“You...never had a Grimoire.”

“No?”

I really don’t see the problem?

“I see.” Father Orsi looks up after a long moment, a serious look on his face, when I finally can’t hold back a yawn.

He stops short, before laughing. “Right, right! You’re still recovering, of course you’re tired. Let’s get you to bed.”

In short order he helps me back to...my room? I guess? Wait, have I been stealing someone’s room? Shit.

Father Orsi laughs warmly as he helps me to the bed. “It’s not a problem,” he says easily. “Sister Lily is sharing with the children for the moment—you just focus on getting better.”

Shit. Did I say that aloud? I guess I did.

“You did,” he confirms, laughing more now. “Sleep, child. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

I want to protest, to argue—I’m part of the Exploration Team _Tales_ , I can pull my own weight—

I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.

~~~

The following week follows a similar pattern as that first day—wake up, eat, have a healing session with Sister Lily, and fill the rest of the day with whatever I can manage.

Sister Lily keeps me walking as much as possible, and I’m—thankful. After two weeks of stillness, while I haven’t _completely_ lost all my muscles, I still feel flimsy and weak. The first step to regaining my strength? Walking.

By the third day, the wound on my side has finally receded to silvery-pink scar tissue, still hot and swollen and sore, but...no longer threatening to reopen. It’s progress.

Once the scabbing has healed over, Sister Lily sets me to helping out with chores around the Church, seeming to sense how stir-crazy I feel, energy itching at my skin.

“The Sanctuary needs to be swept out,” she tells me one morning, passing me a broom. Later, after I’ve finished sweeping the Sanctuary—the big main hall thing, apparently—she takes me outside to where there are several clotheslines set out. 

“I’ll take the dry laundry down, and you can fold it,” she instructs. There’s giggling and laughter, the subtle swell of faint magic to the side, and I turn to see the children, apparently washing the dirty laundry—and, of course, getting soapy water _everywhere._

“Looks like they’re having fun,” I comment, pulling the basket closer to where I’m sitting. Sister Lily laughs.

I smile in return, tamping down on the sudden, fierce _ache_ in my chest.

_Az would love it here._

The days pass quickly, and I can almost— _almost_ —pretend that I’m someone else during the day. That I’m Just Rei, an amnesiac kid recovering from a terrible injury and imposing on the hospitality of too-kind strangers.

At night, however—

The stillness under the moonlight hurts. I still expect to hear Az’s sleepy murmurs, breathing steady and warm beside me. It’s a gaping hole at my side.

In the moonlight, I’m Rei of the Exploration Team _Tales_ , apprenticed to the Kurin Exploration Guild, partner to Azeria.

Time-traveler, amnesiac, and aberration.

~~~

_Az,_

_It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen you. Since--well. Since._

_Father Orsi gave me this journal, to write in--I think he hopes it’ll help. They don’t know everything, but I think they can tell that I’m...not okay. Grieving, I guess. They’re really nice, here--I ended up in this sleepy little village called Hage, and I’m staying at a Church. Do you know what churches are? I could’ve sworn Flora talked about them once, but I can’t remember._

_I’m writing these entries to you, even if you’ll never see them, you know. It...helps. To think like I’m talking to you, even if it’s only in my head. I keep thinking you’re there, you know--just beside me, smiling, having fun--you’d love these people._

_It feels like you’re a ghost in my head, sometimes._

_I miss you so much._

_Rei_

~~~

At the end of the week comes a surprise. Sister Lily and the oldest girl—Recca—pull me aside after breakfast. Recca’s bouncing excitedly, and Sister Lily is smiling. 

“What is it?” I ask, bracing one hand on the wall. I’m stronger than I was, but I’m still shaky, as I’d learned the hard way.

“We’re going into town,” Sister Lily informs me. 

_Uh. Good for you?_

“You too!” Recca chirps, patting my leg. “You’re coming too!”

_Oh._

Well, now I feel stupid.

Sister Lily laughs. “We thought you might be getting tired of only having Yuno’s old sweaters and trousers,” she explains, “since they don’t fit you very well.”

That—isn’t exactly a lie. Even with some quick needlework courtesy of Sister Lily, the clothes the Church has supplied me with are old, patched, and clearly not meant for someone quite as skinny and bony as I am.

Despite half of the clothes being hemmed, I still looked like I was wearing an ill-fitting sack, with the way the shirts tended to slip off one shoulder.

Even so.

“It’s no trouble,” I insist, shaking my head. “You’ve already given me enough.”

Sister Lily sighs. “There’s also the matter that you need _properly fitted_ smallclothes, and that it’s rather improper for a girl your age to only wear trousers.”

I blink.

_What._

“What does that mean?” I ask slowly, frowning. Of everyone at the Guild, the only one who’d ever worn dresses or skirts frequently had been Flora—even Chirean, who’d been more stationary like Crado, helping to organize teams rather than going on on jobs herself, had preferred trousers most days.

“It’s not that you can’t wear trousers,” Sister Lily assures me. “But for a young woman your age, it’s improper for you to _only_ wear trousers.”

“What does that _mean_?” I ask again, more impatiently. “What do trousers and skirts have to do with being ‘proper’?”

Recca looks between us, confusion clear on her face. 

Poor kid.

“It’s considered inappropriate for a woman to show her legs,” Sister Lily explains. “At least, here in the Clover Kingdom. There are exceptions—but those are usually members of the Magic Knights, and they can get away with it. For most, we can’t.”

_That’s—stupid. Legs are legs, right? Everyone has them!_

“I don’t see what that has to do with trousers,” I say instead, biting back my rising disbelief. 

“Trousers are good for work days, and for when you may end up destroying a dress or skirt,” Sister Lily sighs. “But if you wear them often, it’s viewed poorly. As if you’re flaunting yourself.”

I stare at her in disbelief. 

“You’re _joking._ ”

She laughs ruefully. “I’m afraid not. And while you may not care, it’s still good to own at least one dress or skirt. So.”

I open my mouth, stop, and shut it again. 

Her words did line up with what I’d seen of Mrs. Kang in town, and the clients who’d come to the Guild to pass on our cut of the reward and thank us for completed jobs.

Was this just another thing I’d completely missed, by virtue of not remembering it being a thing?

Had Az, Chirean, and Flora all known, and just left me ignorant?

My heart twinges at the thought.

_What else did I miss?_

“Anyway,” Sister Lily continues, unheeding of the darker turn my thoughts had taken, “we’re going to go take care of that today, since you’re finally well enough to hopefully make it there and back.”

“I don’t have any of your money,” I say dumbly. I’d seen their currency. It wasn’t anything I was familiar with at all.

“It’s a gift!” Recca chimes in, smiling up at me. “So you don’t have to pay for it.”

Sister Lily nods, smiling warmly. “A get-well gift,” she agrees, and I swallow.

_Let’s do our best, together! Right, Rei?_

“I guess I have no choice, huh?” I relent, smiling.

“None at all,” Sister Lily agrees cheerfully. Recca giggles.

“Then by all means.”

~~~

It was only once we got to town that I realized that Sister Lily hadn’t really meant to buy _clothes_. Not so much.

Instead, after a thoroughly embarrassing trip to the local seamstress—from whom we bought _properly fitted smallclothes_ , ugh, my ears are burning just thinking of it—Sister Lily takes us to...a fabric shop. I think. 

There are bolts of simple fabric everywhere, at least, all labelled with price tags that I can’t really understand.

“What colors do you like?” Recca asks, tugging at my sleeve insistently. “Do you like blue? That’s my favorite.”

“Uh—“ caught off guard, my mind jumps to the warm red of Az’s hair, the rich, brilliant amber of her eyes. “—red, I guess.”

“Red?” Recca blinks at me, eyeing my hair and eyes carefully. “There’s lotsa red here, but...if you’re gonna wear it as a shirt, maybe—“

She darts off into the store, and Sister Lily laughs wryly. “She’s very excited to help, we don’t usually get new fabric for clothes unless we absolutely have to.”

Guilt pricks at me. 

_What is with me and imposing on people?_

“You really don’t have to,” I try, and Sister Lily waves me off.

“You need proper clothes,” she says firmly. “Now, no more arguing, am I clear?”

I wince, pulling away from her stern gaze. 

“Ah—yes, Sister.”

“Good. Oh—Mrs. Lacey, it’s wonderful to see you!”

She steps away, speaking cheerfully to the owner of the shop? I guess?

Mrs. Lacey smiles back at her, engaging her cheerfully before noticing me, standing awkwardly by the door.

“Oh, hello, dear!” she says brightly. “It’s wonderful to see you up and about, finally.”

_Uh?_

“Mrs. Lacey’s husband was the one who found you,” Sister Lily explains, seeing my confused look. “He rushed you to the Church in such a hurry, he must’ve woken half the town!”

Mrs. Lacey laughs politely. “You gave us quite a fright, showing up in the fields like that. We were all so worried, you were so terribly injured.”

I stand there awkwardly. “Uh...thank you,” I manage, “and...sorry?”

Mrs. Lacey bursts into giggles, and I resist the urge to frown. “Oh, oh, I’m sorry, dear,” she apologizes after a moment. “The look on your face—it really wasn’t anything. But my husband—ever the worrier—he’ll be glad to hear you’re doing better, he was near tearing his hair out these past weeks.”

“Uh.”

I glance at Sister Lily, trying to project _help me!!!_ to her. Telepathy, please please work! 

As always, it fails.

Mrs. Lacey starts chattering on about her husband and how she’s glad I’m doing better and _oh, you simply must come meet him—_

Thankfully, before she can get any further, Recca’s voice breaks in. 

“Rei, Rei!” she comes darting back down one of the aisles. “I found a good one, come look!”

I seize the opportunity to get away gladly. 

“Sure,” I agree, not-so-secretly relieved to get away from Mrs. Lacey’s overbearing chatter.

We leave the two women behind, and Recca pulls me to section deeper in the shop. The fabrics seem to be organised by color—we pass by simple browns and whites and blacks, followed by yellows and greens.

Finally, we reach the smallest section in the back, where all of the blues, purples, and reds are stored.

Recca guides me to one bolt of fabric, pointing excitedly. “This one,” she says brightly.

I run my fingers over the cloth, taking in the rich, deep red.

It’s not the same bright scarlet of the scarf I’d gotten, the day Az and I had become apprentices, but—it looks almost like her hair, caught in a ray of sunlight.

“Do you like it?” Recca asks, tilting her head. I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat.

“Yeah. I do.”

It’s then that Sister Lily shows up again, Mrs. Lacey close on her heels, and promptly sets the fabric aside to be measured and cut. 

By the time we leave, carrying several wrapped parcels of fabric, my head is spinning. Sister Lily had haggled with Mrs. Lacey for each bolt, picking and choosing from a variety of colors. She’d mainly bought serviceable browns, black, and yellows, but dark blue and green had joined the red in the pile.

The sun’s setting by the time we’re making it back to the Church, and my side is aching and my legs are trembling as we climb the hill.

“I’ll get started on sewing these tomorrow,” Sister Lily tells me as Recca darts on ahead, still bouncing with energy. “And please—don’t feel bad. Not all of this will be used for your clothes—Nash is about to hit a growth spurt again, and his trousers are on their last legs. Recca needs a new dress, since she ruined the last one, and any fabric left over will go into patches.”

I blink at her, startled. 

“I thought you might be feeling guilty,” she says, smiling. “So please don’t—we’re buying for multiple reasons. It just so happens that you also needed clothes.”

“I—yeah. Thanks.” I look away, awkwardly. “Guess I was pretty obvious.”

“You were,” she says brightly.

_Ouch._

“Burst my ego, why don’t you?” I joke, wincing as my side flares with prickling pain.

“Of course!”

It’s sort of like a scene from one of those romance books Flora loves to read.

Two people, walking up a hill, all domestic and shit, the sun setting and casting the sky into an array of striking reds and golds.

Warm domesticity. Good feelings, peace and love in a small town in the middle of nowhere.

At the top of the hill, my eyes catch once again on the massive skull in the distance, looming over the village.

_This won’t last._

_But...I’ll enjoy it while I can._

I blink, and look away, turning towards the church. 

_I owe them that much, at least._

~~~

_Az,_

_It’s been over a month since I last saw you. Sister Lily’s already almost finished sewing the fabric she bought into clothes, and Father Orsi gave me back my Explorer’s Badge, finally. He said they found it in the field, while they were looking for my “Grimoire.”_

_He says they’re going to take me into the Grimoire Tower tomorrow to see if I’ll get one. Can you imagine? These people get Grimoires when they’re fifteen! Well. I guess you did too, huh?_

_I can’t imagine it. The Tower we saw, in the future--it was destroyed. Massko said that they were all destroyed when time came to a stop. I wonder, how old was I, when that happened? How old was Massko? He didn’t have one either, or Selebi. But Reumo had one, so I guess he was old enough before the Towers were destroyed. Does that make what he did worse, do you think?_

_I’m being pretty dumb, huh? Writing to a person who will never see it. But...I never expected to be here, still. I was supposed to vanish, right? So why am I still here? ~~why aren’t I with you?~~ Ugh. I started writing in this Journal to try and...stop being so damn melancholy. I guess I’m failing, because all I seem to do is write to you, when you’ll never read it. _

_Are you out there somewhere? I hope you are. I hope you’re happy, and safe._

_...I miss you._

_Rei_

~~~

_Az,_

_So...do you remember how I said we were going to go see if I’d get a Grimoire? Well. We tried. Emphasis on_ _tried_ _. We were stopped on our way there by this--weirdo, in a purple cape. Father Orsi called him a Magic Knight. What’s a Magic Knight? Are they like the Exploration Teams, or like Officer Mezo’s team?_

_He stopped us--well. Sort of? He kind of grabbed me, and I...well. You know how I react to being grabbed suddenly._

_Next thing I knew, there was yelling and the Magic Knight guy had me in some sort of binding spell. You know, like Flora or the Guildmaster would use, if we were all getting too rowdy? Anyway. Father Orsi said...something, and the guy backed off, but Father Orsi hustled us back to the Church._

_I guess I fucked up pretty bad, because now...Father Orsi had me pack the clothes that Sister Lily made me in a bag. Apparently the Magic Knight guy is coming tomorrow, to take me somewhere._

_I--want to leave. To run. I have my magic, if I really wanted to leave they couldn’t catch me. I don’t want to cause trouble for the Church though. Should I let the Magic Knight guy come and take me? I don’t know what to do._

_I wish you were here. You’d know what to do._

_It reminds me too much of Reumo, taking Massko, do you remember that? Massko was gagged on top of the binding spell, and then Reumo called us forward. To “thank us,” the bastard. I really want to punch him._

_I wish the Dimensional Scream would activate, even. Just a glimpse of_ _something_ _would help. Anything._

_I wonder what you’d say. Probably something like “We’ll figure it out, together!” or “we can’t mistrust everyone, Rei.” You’ve always been the optimist. You see the good in everyone, even me. Well--everyone except Team Skull. They’re assholes._

_But I’m not you. And you’re not here._

_...I guess I know what I’m going to do, now._

_Rei_

_~~~_

_Father Orsi, Sister Lily, Recca, Nash, everyone--_

_I’m sorry. You’ve all been good to me, and I’m so thankful I met you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I won’t try to explain, since I know a note isn’t good enough. Sorry for that._

_Goodbye._


	3. 0.3: prelude

The rush of using my magic is like flying. The adrenaline is pumping through me, and I can’t help the giddy laugh that escapes my throat.

_[here-there, twist--slide--here-there, twist--jump--]_

I jump from one spot to the next, mana flexing. I barely feel like I’m working out but it’s a _rush_. 

I land on a thick branch, feeling the wind brushing through my hair, and before I can think I’m already leaping forward, my mana reaching out and flicking me forward.

_[here-there, twist--up-down, over--here-there, twist--here-there, jump, hold--twist!--]_

My legs are burning as I come to a stop on top of the massive skull overlooking Hage. 

The moon is half full, the stars bright, and I can see the church in the distance. This--feels familiar. Not this view, specifically--but maybe?--but the...distance. The solitude. The bittersweet feeling of leaving, once again.

Was this what it was like, when I was traveling with Massko before? 

I sit down beside the old statue, taking a deep breath, and run my hands over the cold bone under me. A skull, a statue, and a small village.

It sounds like the start to a bad joke.

The sort that Lixy would try to tell, only to have Mia and Evri shush him. And then Laudre and Ecrasse would start to laugh, while Perap would try to shush them--

My heart clenches.

_Will I ever go home again?_

My head aches, and I wince, putting a hand to my forehead. My vision flickers.

“Ah--?”

My vision goes dark--piercing light, and then a high pitched scream--

\---

_“So this is where it all started, huh?”_

_“Where part of it did, I guess...Selebi says we’re some of the last.”_

_“What happened to the rest?”_

_“They went mad. Consumed by darkness.”_

_“Oh--?”_

_\---_

My vision clears, and I swallow heavily. 

Past or future? What did I just see, and from when?

But...that was Massko’s voice. And mine. Me and Massko, speaking here, at this huge old skull. Maybe even beside this statue. So--the past. _My_ past. The dark future that-no-longer-is.

I’ve been here before, stood here before, seen this place before.

But...what did I even mean, back then? About “we’re some of the last?” What did Selebi mean, and what did she have to do with it?

 _Consumed by darkness_ ....it sounds like a bad euphemism, or an equally terrible prophecy. And _some of the last_ \--the last of what? What on earth did Selebi and I have in common? 

Well, except for the fact that we both care for Massko, we both wanted to change the past to prevent the dark future, we were both willing to sacrifice our lives to do it--

...Okay, maybe we have more in common than I thought.

But still, the last of what?

I take a deep breath, hold it, and then let it out slowly. There’s something important to this place. Something that has enough magic that it triggered the Dimensional Scream, something that had my past self and Massko here, talking about the “last of us.” Something that Selebi had apparently talked about.

“C’mon, _think_ ,” I hiss at myself, pulling at my hair. I stand up and start pacing slowly. “What the hells do Selebi and I have in common that would count as the ‘last’ of something?”

My hand brushes the tip of my ear as I let go of my hair. I pause.

Selebi--was the only other person I’d ever met with ears like mine. Granted, I didn’t have the fancy red tattoos to go with them, but our ears were the same. I can remember asking Az about her ears, once, not long after we were apprenticed--I had been so _confused_ , because everyone else had these round ears that never really seemed to move much, even when they could hear a lot.

In contrast to mine, which twitched when I heard loud noises, which weren’t rounded but were pointed, which were the only thing Selebi and I had in common that I hadn’t shared with anyone else.

Selebi and I were the only people I knew who had pointed ears.

Was that what the vision was talking about? But--what did our ears have to do with anything? Why was it even _important_?

I resist the urge to scream. “Why do my visions always have to be so fucking _vague_ ?” I demand of the sky, staring up at the moon as if it’s personally offended me. “Why? Why can’t I just have a nice clear vision that actually _tells me something_ ? Just _once_?”

There’s no answer. Of course there isn’t.

I’m just standing here, in the middle of the night, yelling at a sky that can’t answer me. I stand there for a long moment, dropping my hands to my sides, staring up at the sky in the cold moonlight. 

“I wish you were here, Az,” I whisper helplessly. “I just--”

_I don’t know how to do this._

Az has always been the one constant in my life, since I woke up on that beach. Everything else changed and shifted and was ripped out from under our feet, but Az was there every step of the way, taking on our problems together. Listening to my crazy ideas, balancing my tendency to assume the worst of people.

And without that constant, steady presence at my side--

I’m left adrift.

I sit down again, pressing my back against the statue, and staring out into the night. A wide open world before me, full of mystery and adventure, and I’m sitting here, yelling at the sky.

Gods, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?

“Don’t shirk, work,” I murmur, staring out into the dark. “Run away and pay--smiles go for miles, whoo.”

I laugh to myself.

Even just saying the words made me feel a little bit better, the mantra reminding me of every day Az and I had woken up, ready to get to work as soon as Perap told us our duties for the day. The raw energy the Guild had, even at the ass-crack of dawn.

I take a deep breath, and smack my cheeks, making a face. 

“You’re part of a Exploration Team, aren’t you?” I demand of myself, mocking Perap’s shrill voice. “What are you waiting for? Get a move on--the world won’t explore itself!” 

I snort, letting my hands fall down again.

“You’re not wrong, Perap. Don’t shirk, work!” I shove myself to my feet, squaring my shoulders. “Moving on, let’s go.”

I grin as I walk to the edge of the skull. Az--would kill me, if she saw me do this. But she’s not here right now.

I jump off the edge, feeling the rush of air past me tangling my hair, a sickening lurch and then the giddy feeling of free fall.

I laugh, even as I reach out with my mana.

_[reach--here-there, twist--grab, step--]_

_Sorry, Az. But I have to have fun sometimes!_

~~~

Marlow Veer, 3rd rank Intermediate Magic Knight of the Purple Orcas Squad, is Not Having a Good Day.

Scratch that, not having a Good _Month_.

First, there was the terrible-awful-no-good news about their Captain--Gueldre Poizot--being...well. Being a no-good ruffian and traitor to the kingdom, which--Marlow would _like_ to say he’s surprised, but Captain Gueldre had always been the scheming sort.

If there was money involved, and the chance to gain it, he’d fold like a house of cards. Greedy, greedy, _greedy_.

So Vice-Captain Kaiser had stepped into Captain Gueldre’s shoes, making _him_ Captain Kaiser--and then he promptly made Xerx Lugner, a stone-cold bastard, his Vice-Captain.

Marlow isn’t _judging_ , per se, but clearly Captain Kaiser--a patient, kind man with a lovely wife who always brings treats her servants make when she visits on Sundays--has only ever seen the porcelain cold serenity that Xerx loves to put on for show.

Either that or Xerx was so desperate for a promotion he decided to suck the Captain’s dick, but--Marlow doesn’t think that Captain Kaiser would cheat on his wife like that.

Maybe Xerx had sucked someone else’s dick, who then convinced Captain Kaiser to make him Vice-Captain? Hm.

 _Anyway_.

Then Captain Kaiser passes down to them--orders from _on-high_ , meaning this is big business, orders from the Wizard King himself!--that anyone with pointed ears and-or red facial tattoos are to be watched and brought in for questioning if it’s safe to apprehend them.

And Marlow would be fine with that! Because really, who goes around with pointy ears and red face tattoos? Well, the red face tattoos could be pretty likely, depending on what family you’re from, but the ears? That would take some serious magic work to manage. That's the kind of shit from fairytales, you know?

Except.

That week, he drew the short straw, meaning that he had to go out and spend a week in one of the tiny little nowhere towns in the Forsaken Realm as what amounts to little more than a glorified guard dog.

He’s still absolutely sure that Wes and Reine are cheating at the straws, but he just--can’t figure out how yet. That’s the only explanation for why they _never_ get guard rotation.

Anyway.

He gets out to this nowhere town out in the middle of the boonies, resisting the urge to curl his lip at the sight of the peasants--crawling around like rats, in such a tiny place, hovels everywhere--and starts to hear whispers about weird things.

Mainly about a kid who showed up overnight in one of the fields, bloody and crumpled and so terribly injured that even the Sister’s healing magic could only stem the flow, oh my! But really, an almost dead kid isn’t his problem, so he ignores the mutterings, already ready to be back base, back in _civilization_.

Then he sees the kid, just in passing, in the markets, with a nun and a kid.

First thing that catches his eye is the hair--it’s this one-particular-shade of brown that he can _swear_ he’s seen before, but--oh well. Whatever. Then the kid tosses their head, and he sees it, just a glimpse.

Pointed ears.

 _Great_.

Just--wonderful, perfect, the highlight of his week. What are the odds, that he draws the short straw and then this happens?

God, maybe Reine finally went that one extra step to their cheating and asked that Luck Magic girl from the Golden Dawn to curse him. That would make sense, right? _Right?_

But then someone bumps into him, and by the time he’s done hissing about the _indignity, how dare a peasant touch me—_ when he looks back, the kid is gone. Just his luck.

He keeps watching the market though; if the kid came through once, that means that they must live around here, right? Yeah, absolutely, definitely.

Marlow very carefully doesn’t think about the flaws in his logic. Flaws? What flaws? He’s a noble, he doesn’t make errors in logic like a petty commoner, bite your tongue.

It’s over a week before he sees the kid again, this time with the Father from the Church—following along like a lemming. Eyes wide and curious, hanging onto whatever the Father’s joking about, and he—

—he doesn’t make mistakes, really, he doesn’t, but maybe he...miscalculated.

He comes up behind the kid, and grabs their shoulder—it’s so bony, God above, what has the kid been eating?—pulls them back, starting on his Official Magic Knight spiel that he’d practiced in front of a mirror, to Wes’s amusement and mockery.

It’s not _that bad_ , _shut up Wes_!

Next thing he knows he’s blinking stars from his eyes and covered in dust, feeling like he’d just been run over by some Earth mage’s runaway spell. The kid is staring at him like a mouse caught in the cheese, and he feels something like anger bubbling in his chest.

_How dare this peasant assault me, a noble!_

It _was_ some pretty impressive magic, especially as a reflex, but—no, no! He can’t get caught up admiring a kid’s magic when they just had the gall to assault him, a _noble._ A Magic Knight.

He starts for the kid, levering himself out of the crater in the wall he’d been _thrown into,_ and then the Father is there, putting himself between Marlow and the kid.

There’s something about reflexes, and trauma, and _the child has only just recovered from a terrible injury, sir knight, please—_

And Marlow looks at the kid’s face, eyes wide as saucers in a porcelain pale face, and feels the anger simmer away into something—softer. He’s reminded of his younger siblings, when they were small; Maisy and Michel, small and mischievous and young. The terror when they got caught playing on the roof by the Stewardess, before Marlow stepped in and talked her down.

So he lets himself be talked down, _let’s_ himself, it’s not that the Father is convincing or that the kid looks scared, it’s really not. And he lets the Father take them back to the Church, on the condition that when he comes tomorrow, the kid is ready to come with him. To face the charges for assaulting a noble—and to be questioned, because apparently the Wizard King is interested in pointy ears. 

Marlow isn’t going to judge, but—he really hopes the Wizard King isn’t _that_ kind of interested. He’s pretty sure the kid is an adult, at least fifteen, but...he hadn’t seen a Grimoire. If there’s no Grimoire, plus how skinny the kid was—they could’ve been younger. Could be Maisy’s age, all knobbly knees and scuffed palms at thirteen.

He _really_ hopes that the Wizard King isn’t _that_ sort of interested. Because that? That’s not something even Royals should be allowed to do. Marlow thinks, just a little, maybe a bit treasonously, that on the off-chance that the Wizard King _is_ that sort of interested—well. He might find himself committing actual treason.

Anyway.

Tomorrow’s the end of his shift anyway, so what’s the harm in waiting?

There’s a lot of harm in waiting, it turns out, because when he gets to the Church, early enough in the morning that it’s not late, but definitely not dawn—he’s a noble, why should _he_ have to wake up at dawn?—the kid is gone. _Gone_.

Poof, runaway, gone.

They left a note.

Marlow—sort of wants to scream. Rage. Cry.

This really just _is not_ his month. Maybe not his year. And he’d already sent in the report about the kid too! Now he has to send in another one explaining that the kid is gone.

A group will probably be sent to try to track the kid down, after he gives a better description when he gets back to base. 

God above, why couldn’t the kid have just _stayed put_? It would have made their lives so much easier. 

Now he has to go send a report to his Captain saying that he accidentally let a person of interest walk free. No, no—that a kid who attacked a Magic Knight—so a _criminal_ —escaped in the middle of the night.

Better.

Marlow firmly ignores the niggling guilt in the back of his mind, the voice saying _but they looked so much like Maisy, like Michel—_

Criminal is a criminal, right? And besides, they’re going to be taken into custody, and with the higher ups so interested, Captain Kaiser wouldn’t let the kid be abused too badly.

Guilt assuaged, Marlow continues writing his report.

After all, it’s out of his hands now.

~~~

_Az,_

_If you were here, you’d probably be disappointed in me. Or maybe not._

_I--I left. The Church. Hage. Whatever. I left, in the middle of the night. I...ran away, I guess. What was I supposed to do? Let some weird guy take me somewhere, after he basically attacked me and I reacted?_

_...I should’ve been paying more attention, I know. I shouldn’t have reacted so violently. But the last time someone grabbed me like that--_

_It was Ranje. You remember how that went._

_So--I left. I ran. I don’t really regret it either._

_Oh!! I finally had a vision. There’s this huge skull outside of Hage--I think I wrote about it before, but maybe not--but it’s_ _huge_ _. Bigger than the Guild, maybe even on the scale of the Tower. Like the Fogbound Lake. It’s got weird eye sockets, and horns, and a bunch of other shit, but it’s definitely bone--its not rock, believe me. And there’s this weird statue on top, of some guy in a cape. Wonder what the story there is?_

_Anyway._

_I went up there, when I left. You know me, I like heights too much for my own good. And--after I touched the skull, it happened. The Dimensional Scream. It wasn’t a full vision, just voices, just words. But...I think I heard something from my past. You know, the dark future. The one we tried to erase. The one we_ _did_ _erase._

_I’ve been in Hage before. To that skull._

_It was Massko and I, talking. Something about “where it all started” and Selebi talking about “us” being “some of the last.” And apparently the rest went...mad? Or something? Maybe it was the same as what happened to Dialga, except...not on a godly scale. I think what Selebi was talking about was...our ears? Or something???? I don’t know. But...that’s the only thing she and I have in common like that. I don’t know how I know, but I know that Massko wasn’t included in it, so...it’s gotta be that._

_‘Cause, y’know. Me and Selebi are sort of really fucking different._

_I just...don’t know what it’s supposed to mean. Some of the last of what? And why did the rest go mad? Oh, right--she said they were “consumed by darkness.” Er. I said that she said? You know what I mean. But what darkness? All I can think of is Dialga’s madness, but...somehow, it doesn’t feel right. Like I’m missing something._

_But then again, I kind of am, aren’t I? Something like sixteen years of somethings._

_I wish I could remember more, because this is so frustrating--it’s on the tip of my tongue sometimes. Hage felt almost familiar. Those words felt familiar, and like I was missing the last little bit that would put everything into perspective._

_But sometimes I remember that I’m the way I am because I lost those memories. Even if, according to Massko, I didn’t really change that much._

_...this is getting long. I’ll write to you again as soon as I can._

_Rei_


	4. 0.4: prelude

“Azeria—your duty today is to take and complete jobs from the Bulletin Boards. Understand?” a flicker of—not quite pity on Perap’s face. Sadness? “Well—hop to it!”

Azeria nods, ignoring the looks as she heads up the ladders to the Bulletin Boards. It’s been over four months. You’d think she’d be _over_ it, or at least—people would stop acting like she’s somehow broken.

She’s not! She’s fine!

Everything’s gone back to normal; time restarted in the affected areas, Azelf and the others returned to their lakes, Dialga is recovering, the kingdom is returning to peace, and things are once again stable. Mystery Dungeons ( _ah yes, so different from regular Dungeons_ —) are decreasing again. Everyone is happy.

She looks over the Bulletin Board, before checking the two jobs left over from the previous day’s work in her Bag. Waterfall Cave.

Azeria pulls down another job from the Board, also marked for Waterfall Cave. “This should be a good set,” she says to herself. “A lot of water and plant traps—maybe Ben would like to come?”

_(It’s efficient!_

_No, it’s_ _exhausting_ _, why do we have to—)_

“Whatcha doin’?” Lixy drapes his arm over her shoulders, grinning. Mia slides up on her other side, giving the same catlike grin.

“Ah! I—I’m picking out jobs, what does it look like?” Azeria yelps, startled. “And don’t _do_ that, you jerk.”

Lixy’s grin gets wider. “Do what?” he asks, widening his eyes innocently. “Mia, did you see me do anything?”

“Not a bit,” Mia chirps. “Did you, Evri?”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about, boss,” Evri says slyly, winking at Azeria. “We’re just checking in on a friend and fellow apprentice, aren’t we?”

Azeria rolls her eyes, feeling a flood of warm, exasperated fondness. “You’re all _awful_.”

“ _Us_?” Lixy gasps in mock-offense.

“ _Awful_?”

“You must be mistaken,” Evri concludes, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Uh-huh,” Azeria shakes her head. “What do you want?”

Mia pouts. “Can’t we just come check on you?”

“Yeah! After all, your Team’s a higher Rank than ours, we could just want to ask for tips—and we have a right to talk to our fellow apprentices,” Lixy insists, pressing his face closer. Azeria leans away.

“You’re trying to butter me up,” she says, squinting at him, before shrugging his arm off. “What do you _want_?” 

Lixy backs up a couple steps, taking her gesture as the motion for space it is. “ _Well_ ,” he says, drawing out the word playfully as Mia peels herself away from Azeria’s side. “Those jobs are for Waterfall Cave, right?”

“...yes?” 

“We want to see the crystal you guys found,” Mia breaks in eagerly, ignoring the affronted look Lixy casts her way. “And we asked Bippa about it, and he said we should talk to Perap—“

“—and Perap said we could _if_ we asked you. Something about traps?” Evri finishes cheerfully.

“I don’t see _why_ ,” Lixy adds, “we don’t have anything to fear from _traps_. We’re strong!”

Azeria—laughs. It bubbles out without her permission, and she completely misses the look of triumph that flashes over the trio’s faces. 

“You’re so _weird_ ,” she manages, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear. “But yeah sure. Whatever, so long as Perap’s fine with it.”

Mia makes a mock-offended noise. “D’you hear that, Evri? Az thinks we’re _weird_!”

“Such betrayal,” Evri agrees sagely, and Lixy tosses an arm around her shoulders, pretending to sob.

“We’ve only ever been the best of friends, of Guildmates—and this is how we’re repaid!” 

Azeria rolls her eyes, still smiling. “If you say so.”

~~~

Sann watches as the quartet leave, Azeria still smiling at Lixy, Mia, and Evri’s antics. It’s a relief, to see her smiling again.

“Ooooh, looks like you were right, Bippa!” Flora says brightly once they vanish up the ladder. “They really did get Azzy to smile!”

Bippa flushes. “Oh, oh, golly—it wasn’t just me, yup yup! You helped me convince Perap, Flora.”

“And then you were the one who asked Lixy, Mia, and Evri to do it,” Sann points out. “Credit where credit’s due.”

Flora nods, clapping, even as Bippa flushes further.

“It’s really nice to see her smile again,” Chirean adds. “I can’t speak for the rest of you, but—I’ve been very worried, and while he won’t admit it, so have Perap and the Guildmaster.”

“She’s grieving,” Sann says quietly, and the other three fall silent. “Ever since Rei—“ _Vanished. Died._ “—left. They were close as they come, you know.”

Bippa sniffles. “I miss them too,” he admits quietly. “We all do.”

And it’s true, Sann thinks. The ghost of Rei lingers in the Guild, as an empty plate and bed, in words dropped and left unsaid, in the missing presence to his right every morning during rollcall.

Sometimes, he thinks he can almost hear them—the way they’d laugh at Lixy’s antics, the way they’d bolster Azeria’s confidence; the way how, even at their most exhausted and hurt, they’d made time for him and Linfa, trying their best to help.

“I miss them too,” Sann agrees after a long moment. 

“Same,” Chirean murmurs. “I can’t imagine what it’s like for Azeria—I don’t think I ever saw them apart.”

Flora sighs sadly. “It’s so sad!” she cries, flapping her arms. “Rei shouldn’t have had to do that, we should have found another way!”

“ _What_ other way?” Sann asks, perhaps too sharply, frustration bubbling in his throat. “They were trying prevent the dark future—and the only way to do that was to _change the future_ . You know, the one that Rei and Massko were _from_?”

Flora makes a helpless noise, but Chirean intercedes. 

“Flora’s just trying to say that we all wish there had been another way, without causing Rei’s...departure.” It’s diplomatic, and suddenly something savagely angry swells in his chest. 

“You mean their _erasure_ ,” he snaps. Flora gasps and Bippa flinches. Chirean just meets his eyes calmly, and that—makes him, strangely, even angrier. “They were _erased_ , Chirean, like they never even _existed_. And now we’re here, left behind to pick up the damn pieces!”

“Yes, they were technically _erased_ ,” Chirean says quietly, and Sann refuses to back down at the sudden steel in her voice. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t remember them. That doesn’t mean we don’t still have the memory of them, and the duty to keep the memory of them _alive_ , Sann. And so long as they’re remembered, they won’t _ever_ be fully erased. Do you understand me?”

Sann swallows harshly, stuck between a wave of humiliating shame, and that same unreasonable anger. Chirean continues, heedless of his silence.

“We _all_ miss Rei, but that doesn’t mean you get to lash out at us just because you’re grieving too.”

The shame wins out. It’s like a hot flood, from ears to toes, and he looks away, blinking away the stinging in his eyes. 

“Sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Chirean says after a long moment, and Bippa sniffles again in the silence.

“We can’t forget them,” he says quietly. “And...golly, I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t think I _can_ , yup yup!”

Flora giggles, and if it’s a little wet, Sann—well. He won’t mention a thing. “Oh, I know, right? Those two got into more trouble than even Lixy, Mia, and Evri put together!” she jokes, and they all laugh.

“Do you remember when they tried to take on that one Outlaw—Allen, I think it was?—and instead ended up helping him pay off gambling debts?” Chirean asks, giggling.

“Woah, woah, wait,” Sann says, holding up a hand, the hot flush of shame fading in favor of morbid curiosity. “I never heard about this one—when did this _happen?”_

“A couple weeks after we returned from the expedition,” Chirean informs him. “They were trying to get together enough money to buy the Lazuri brothers something nice for their mom—you know, the pair that were kidnapped by Slip Dormi?” 

Sann remembers—hells, it had been barely after they’d even joined that those two had gotten tangled up in that case.

“Anyway, they take the job to go capture this Outlaw, Allen…something, I don’t remember his last name,” Chirean shrugs, “and instead of coming back with the Outlaw, they turn in proof of a whole scheme that this _other_ guy, Cross, had been dumping his gambling debts on the kid and then running off.”

“Oh, I think I remember this!” Flora says, perking up. “Perap was _sooo_ cranky that night because he had to stick around with Officer Mezo to try and figure out the paperwork they caused!”

“Is _that_ why he was so cranky?” Sann asks, laughing a little. “I thought the Guildmaster was running low on apples again!”

“Gods forbid,” Flora giggles, and Bippa nods.

“The Guildmaster sure is scary when he doesn’t have his apples, yup yup!”

~~~

For all of their antics, Team Nya aren’t idiots. Lixy is a good leader, with a head for strategy in a pinch and powerful long range spells; Mia’s clever and tricky, leaving enemies reeling with her close range attacks; and Evri’s the all-rounder, with a knack for covering the other two’s weak spots. There’s a reason they’re part of Kurin’s Exploration Guild, and it’s not just because the Guildmaster thought they had potential or took pity on them.

_...at least, most of the time, we are._

Evri winces as Lixy goes flying into a wall, propelled by a heavy jet of water, while Mia stands back laughing and Azeria puts her head in her hands.

Lixy hops up as the water trap dissipates, black hair a sodden mess, dripping everywhere. “Why didn’t you warn me?!” he demands, futilely wiping water out of his eyes. Mia doubles over, cackling madly. Azeria sighs.

“I _told you_ there are traps all over the place in here!” she responds, looking deeply exasperated.

And isn’t that progress? Evri can remember when Azeria was small—they’d both grown up around Treasure Town, and while they hadn’t been _friends_ , exactly, Evri had definitely been aware of the timid little kid that was always bullied or ignored, but had bigger dreams than her heart could handle.

And when she’d finally shown up to the Guild, all Evri had seen was that same meek kid, constantly looking to Rei for reassurance. She can remember it so damn clearly, thinking _she’s going to be eaten alive out there_ —

Except. Slowly but surely, that timid kid had been replaced by the quiet, confident Explorer in front of her. Grieving, and a little broken now, but the change is like night and day. And Evri…

She can’t remember when it happened. It’s like one moment, Azeria was that timid kid, and then she blinked—and that younger, shiny Azeria was replaced by the older, chipped and battered Azeria of the present.

“—you did _not!_ ” Lixy’s insisting, and Evri finally steps in, not-quite-kicking Mia’s cackling form.

“Get up,” she chides, and looks at Lixy. “Chill, boss—Az _did_ tell you about the traps, it ain’t her fault if you decided not to listen. You still gonna be a sourpuss about it?” Lixy opens and closes his mouth a few times, fighting a smile. 

“Shut up,” he settles on finally, looking away as he breaks into a full-on grin. Mia’s still giggling as she hauls herself to her feet, clothes damp and spotted with grime from her impromptu date with the floor.

“Are you guys ready?” Azeria asks, smiling with just that hint of _gods-only-know-why-I-like-you-guys_ that makes Evri want to laugh. “We’re not even halfway to the crystals you wanted to see.”

“Ugh,” Lixy gripes, sticking out his tongue at Mia--who, in a _shocking display of maturity_ , returns the gesture in kind. “You’re right, you’re right--hey, question, Az?”

“Yeah?”

Their footsteps echo softly in the tunnels, the occasional spot of bioluminescent fungi or crystal casting the stone in eerie light.

“How _did_ you and Rei meet?” the words fall like rocks into the dark, and Evri feels her heart sink. “I’ve always wondered, and--”

“I found them.”

Azeria’s voice is--not quite flat, not quite pained, but somewhere in between. Distant. Lixy falls silent, and Evri can just see his eyes go wide in the dim lighting, the odd light turning his golden eyes a strange teal color. She can’t blame him; she’s startled that Azeria even bothered responding. 

“They--” her voice cracks. “They were unconscious, on the beach. I’d just tried to enter the Guild to try and become an apprentice, but I was a _coward_ and ran away to the beach, feeling sorry for myself. Then I saw them, out cold by a rock.” 

Evri shares a look with Mia and Lixy as Azeria’s voice goes soft, distant and nostalgic. She can tell they’re both thinking the same thing.

_She’s actually going to tell us?!_

“It was the morning after that awful storm, y’know? I saw them, ran over and tried to help--and then Team Skull burst in and stole the Relic Fragment. My treasure.” Azeria’s voice takes a wondering note, and despite herself, Evri can’t help but get caught up in the story. “I was so scared, but--Rei decided to help me get it back. They were-- _amazing_ , in the fight--not even a Grimoire, but fighting beside them was like--gods, it was like finding a matching puzzle piece. It’s only thanks to them I ever even joined the Guild, did you know?”

Not for the first time, Evri wonders--were Rei and Az...dating? Involved? _Something_? She’s close with her Team, but the way Rei and Az were sometimes...they orbited each other. Like a compass points to true north. 

Inevitable, in a strange sort of way. 

If she believed in that sort of thing, Evri might be tempted to call them soulmates of a kind. Two halves, inevitably drawn to meet across time. Catching that thought, Evri makes a face.

_Ugh, I’m starting to sound like Flora’s damn romance novels!_

“Really?” Mia sounds intrigued. “But I thought--”

“That I was the one who suggested it?” Azeria laughs, soft and wry. “I was. But...Rei’s always been the brave one. It’s only ever been thanks to them that I learned how to be brave too.”

“Liar,” Lixy snorts, tossing his head. “You have more guts than anyone else I’ve ever known--’cept me, of course.”

Evri snorts. “Oh, you’re excluding me and Mia now, boss? I’m betrayed. Utterly devastated.”

“Yeah!” Mia chirps, sidling up beside Lixy with a cunning little smirk. “You’re being mean to us, boss-man.” Lixy’s eyes go wide, and he shoots Azeria an awkward look. 

“I--that is, you’re both brave too--” he stammers, and Evri quickly suppresses the smile that’s twitching at her lips.

“But not brave enough to be on par with you and Azeria? I see now, boss--always being the spares, as usual.” Evri’s fairly sure she’s failing at concealing the amusement twinkling in her eyes, but luckily the eerie lighting casts everyone into strange shadows. Mia snickers, jabbing Lixy in the ribs with her long-- _bony_ \--fingers.

“ _Ow!_ ”

Mia takes off, hooting with laughter, Lixy in hot pursuit. Evri watches them go, lengthening her stride to catch up to Azeria. She’s thumbing through her set of job notices, pulling out one in particular.

“We almost to the last one?” Evri asks curiously, peering over Azeria’s shoulder.

“Almost--from the description, they’re a little deeper in. And then we can go see the crystals,” Azeria adds, casting a small smile at Evri.

“Cool.” Evri rolls her shoulders back, tucking her hands in the pockets of her trousers. Mia and Lixy are making enough noise to wake any constructs of the cave, but they haven’t pulled out their Grimoires at all, so Evri will take that as a good sign. “Sorry about Lixy, by the way. He’s got terminal foot-in-mouth disease.” Azeria barks a startled laugh.

“It’s fine,” she says, tucking the notices away in her bag. “It’s--it’s nice to talk about the easier times, before--” she waves a hand vaguely, and Evri nods. _Before the whole saving-the-world thing._ “I keep hearing people talk about the later stuff, talking about them like they were some--some kind of paragon. Perfect. It hurts, you know?”

“I get it,” Evri says quietly. “Not--not the same way, but. Enough.”

“--Right. Your Da, right?” Azeria gives her an apologetic look. “Sorry--I’m over here, talking about all of my problems, and--”

Evri cuts her off, waving a hand easily. “It’s fine. It’s been a long time; I’ve had time for it to fade. But I remember how hard it was, to hear people talk about him and just...file away the imperfections.”

Evri remembers what it was like, when her Da died. Everyone called him a hero--he’d died saving people from a wildfire run out of all control, getting them out alive while he’d stayed behind to keep the flames back for as long as possible. 

Everyone always forgot that he wasn’t a solitary figure--that he’d left people behind. And when they did remember her, remember her hot mess of a mother, it was only ever to coo pityingly or press the heavy weight of his legacy onto her shoulders. Evri looks back up when Azeria speaks again after a moment, the strange lighting casting her expression into an almost nightmarish mask.

“They make Rei sound like--like they were perfect, and they _weren’t_ , and I _hate_ that people who never knew them keep acting like they _did._ Like it’s somehow more acceptable now that they’re gone, than when they were here.”

Evri eyes Azeria, because--that was _bitter_. How much of this has she been holding back? Keeping back, because even with her newfound confidence, she’s never been chatty. Except with Rei, gods know that those two always shared almost everything with each other, but then--

Rei had always been the exception.

“That’s how it goes, isn’t it?” Evri tosses her a tired smile. “People always want to put heroes on a pedestal. Don’t want to admit they were just people too.”

“I don’t want anyone to forget that they were real,” Azeria admits after a long minute. “That they were a person, who’d forget their head if it weren’t attached to their shoulders, and so damn _annoying_ sometimes when they were so sure they were right--” Azeria’s eyes are glittering with tears, Evri realizes with a sick jolt. “--and so daft sometimes it made me want to hit them with a pillow. They were my _best friend_ , and--I don’t want those parts of them to be forgotten. I don’t want _them_ to be forgotten, or Massko, or Selebi, or anyone else! But every time I hear someone talk about it, what they did, what they sacrificed--”

“It’s like they’re talking about a completely different person,” Evri finishes, cautiously placing a hand on Azeria’s shoulder. Comfortingly, she hopes. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

Azeria sniffles and wipes roughly at her eyes. “It’s not your fault. I’m just--so angry sometimes I don’t know what to do.”

Evri remembers feeling like that too. She waves her hand again, smiling lazily at Azeria. “It’s fine. Really--it is. You should talk about it, you know. Maybe not with me, if you don’t want to,” she adds hurriedly, at Azeria’s disbelieving look, “but with someone. Talk about what Rei was actually like, and about how you’re feeling. Losing someone--changes you. Trust me, I know.”

“Does it ever stop hurting?” Azeria asks plaintively, suddenly heart-wrenchingly vulnerable on her face. Evri can’t help the pang in her heart at the sight. The fact that she can’t tell Azeria what she clearly wants to hear.

“...no,” Evri says softly, looking away. “Not really. It just doesn’t hurt as often.”

Azeria closes her eyes, sighing deeply. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

A bang, roar, and screech from up ahead, and Lixy and Mia’s voices--Lixy howling with laughter while Mia complains. They both pause, and look at each other.

“Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” Evri offers blandly, and Azeria laughs. It’s a bit watery, still, but better than the raw grief that had ruled her face just moments before.

“I guess. Let’s go make sure they don’t kill themselves.”

Evri shrugs, gesturing Azeria onward with a wry smile.

“After you.”


	5. Interlude 1: Brannis

The chill of Mt. Freeze has never truly bothered Brannis. Where others fall to the blistering cold and snow, frostbite lapping at their toes, Brannis--doesn’t. Perhaps it’s due to their magic, or simply their nature, but they’ve long since learnt to stop questioning it.

They tilt their head at the soft crunch of fresh snow underfoot, unblinkingly staring up at the cold silver-gray of the clouds above.

“You’ve come down from the mountain,” Goral notes, and Brannis laughs. 

“Not really--we’re still on the slopes, are we not?”

Goral makes a disgusted noise. “Don’t be pedantic. You’re a cryptic asshole, I don’t need you dropping any more silver from your mouth.”

“Language is the carrier of meaning,” Brannis says lightly, turning to look at Goral finally. Goral scowls at them, and they laugh again, tossing their hair easily. “They did it, you know.”

“The runaways? I know.”

“I’ve never met two quite so determined,” Brannis muses, and--something tilts _just-so_ in their head. A sudden sense of deja vu, except not quite. Goral peers at them.

“What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “You’ve got that _look_ on your face again.” 

Brannis tilts his head, turns his gaze away and onto the horizon--the soft, dark edges of the Frosty Forest, and the deep, sullen red glow of Mt. Blaze beyond. “The world’s balance has settled,” they say instead, feeling the ebb and flow of Mt. Freeze’s natural mana under their feet--steady, deep, and calm. So very different from the wild spikes and dips it had been given to during the disasters. It’s stronger too--like the deep breathing of some giant being, pulsing like blood. Goral eyes them suspiciously.

“Mostly,” he agrees after a moment. “There’s…”

“Aftershocks,” Brannis agrees, closing their eyes for a long moment. The snow swirls around them like a cloak, and Brannis finally turns to look at Goral, eyes flashing like white-hot coals. “It’s not simply that, however.”

“Oh?” 

“There’s--more. It’s not simply aftershocks from the disasters, there’s something else. As if pebbles have been thrown into a river.”

“Ripples?” Goral asks, canting his head to the side curiously. Brannis shakes their head, red hair curling against their dark skin like fire. 

“Not...exactly. I can’t put my finger on it, and that bothers me.”

“Perish the thought,” Goral says dryly, “you not knowing something immediately.” Brannis gives him a cool, irritated look, and Goral sighs. “Look at it this way--is it a problem?”

Brannis looks to the horizon again, breathing deeply. They’ve been guided by the world this long, letting the ebb and flow of the natural mana of the world guide their words and actions for _years_. And yet--deja vu, but not. Pebbles in a river, dropped in without a care to the changes to the river’s course they caused.

“No,” they admit after a long moment. “At least, not now.”

Goral shrugs, and for a split second Brannis feels deeply, viciously envious of him. They’re kin of a sort, both able to feel the pulse of natural mana around them, but where Brannis can feel it like a hum in their bones, a pulse in their blood, Goral-- _can’t_. His magic--a rare, precious sort of time magic--doesn’t grant him the ability to skate through time like a skipping stone, or command it like an hourglass; rather, it lets him feel the tug and pull of fate, the inexorable drag of disaster bearing down. It leaves him free, in ways that Brannis never can be--in ways that they’d thought they’d resigned themselves to never having.

But they are what they are, the two of them. So Brannis breathes--in, hold, out--and lets it go. 

“If it’s gonna be bad, then it’s gonna be bad,” Goral reminds him quietly, and in the muted hush of snowfall, it feels almost profound. “There’s nothing we can do now but wait.”

Brannis--doesn’t have much to say to that. They both stand there, for a long moment, both caught in the swirl of snow and the strange edge of timelessness that Mt. Freeze seemed to hold.

“And you don’t sense anything?” 

Goral startles at the sudden words, dark eyes flashing over to meet Brannis’s gaze. His face turns faintly red, his ears flushing under his tan. “About--what, your pebbles? No.”

Brannis looks away, back out to where the ruddy glow of Mt. Blaze turns the sky black. 

“There is something though,” Goral adds, almost hastily, and Brannis looks back to him quickly. “It’s--not pebbles. Just...there’s something coming. Not here, maybe not for a while, but--it’s _big_.” Goral’s gaze goes distant, dark eyes glowing silver as he pulls out his Grimoire, one hand resting on the page bearing one of his only spells. “Revenge and despair--destruction. I can’t see any more than that.”

Brannis looks at him, and for the first time they think they may see why Sanya--that bright, determined spark of a child--had called him _angel_ so teasingly. Soft white hair against tanned skin and dark eyes, gentle features past the cold scowls and aloof glares he so often wore. 

Goral sighs as he tucks his Grimoire away, looking back to Brannis and flushing again. His eyes, Brannis thinks, are prettier without the silver of his mana turning them to ice.

“Well?” Goral says, expression twisting into a scowl, and Brannis feels something warm and fond curl in their chest. 

“Nothing,” they say lightly, and don’t bother choking back their laughter when Goral hisses something uncomplimentary like a particularly angry cat. “There’s nothing we can do now but wait, right?”

Goral gives them a dirty look at his own words being thrown back in his face. “You’re an asshole.”

And--Brannis knows they really _shouldn’t_ say this, it’s so very childish, but it’s so much _fun_ to taunt him.

“I know you are, but what am I?”

Goral whips around, eyes glittering with irritation that mocks true anger, and Brannis doesn’t bother holding back the snickering laughter that bubbles in their chest. Goral fumes for a second, before a particularly chill gust sets him shivering even through his thick coat.

On impulse, Brannis extends a hand to him, their own red mana flaring like a heat haze around it. “Come with me,” they say, almost breathless. Goral eyes their hand like it’s a live snake, before looking them in the eyes. The way his eyes go wide makes something warm and pleased curl in their belly. He reaches out and takes their hand, almost jumping as their mana promptly curls around him.

“Oh! You’re--warm,” he breathes, and Brannis laughs brilliantly, feeling almost triumphant. 

“Of course I am.”

“Smug bastard,” Goral huffs, but doesn’t let go of their hand.

As they walk through the snow together, Brannis almost feels--like they’re half a step out of time. Mt. Freeze feels like the edge of the world, a cold little bubble unto itself.

It feels almost like it could last forever, if they just wish hard enough.

  
  


_End Arc 1: Prelude_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For context’s sake, yes, I am blending Red/Blue Rescue Team into this.  
> And yes, the characters are the universe’s versions of Ninetales and Absol respectively.


	6. 1.1: saudade

_“Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed,_

_The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.”_

_~_ Robert Louis Stevenson _,[Songs of Travel, XVI](https://www.gutenberg.org/files/487/487-h/487-h.htm) _

~~~

It’s stupidly sentimental, I’ll admit. The leaves rustle gently in the breeze, the tree limb I’m perched on swaying as I sit silently and watch the horizon in the predawn hush. The dark sky--still so much different from the dark sky I’d lived under, a scant few months ago--fading into the soft pinks and creams of sunrise.

I’m just sitting here, watching the sunrise, and it still feels like I can’t breathe for the wonder of it, even months later. It’s the first time since I woke that I’ve really been well enough that I haven’t slept through dawn either, and--

It’s also the first time since I woke that I haven’t been surrounded by strangers. Well-meaning strangers, most of them, to be fair--but still strangers. People I didn’t really trust, but had no choice but to leave my life in their hands until now. If they hadn’t killed me while I was out, they probably wouldn’t have killed me at all. But that wouldn’t stop them from handing me over to who I could only guess was a Jatek-expy or something, from the purple cape and attitude. 

_Is Reumo here?_

I stop at the thought, and turn it over slowly in my head. Is he? And if he is--Massko? Selebi?

Is this the future, after we erased it, somehow pieced back together? I want to hope. Because if it is, then there’s a chance--no matter how slim--that Massko’s here. Somewhere out there. And if he is, there’s a chance—no matter how slim—that I’ll meet him again. That maybe our final words hadn’t been so final after all.

I sigh, and let that spark of hope sputter. Since when have I ever had the easy way? I _want_ to hope, it’s already been so strange, waking up after being erased like I was, but—can I really dare to? Unbidden, I think of Massko’s smile, the way his face had lit up when I’d finally recovered even a sliver of our time together. The way he’d unerringly stepped between us and danger, even when he could have cut us loose. The way he’d looked at Selebi, and she’d looked at him.

Quietly, as the sun edges over the horizon, I tuck that spark of hope somewhere deep down. Surely, surely, I’m allowed to be selfish and hope, aren’t I? And even if I never meet any of them again—I hope, really and truly, that they’re happy. 

I breathe deeply, letting the cool air wash over my face as the leaves rustle again in the gentle breeze. My mana feels less strained now, less like a pond almost drained dry handful by handful. I could _probably_ jump again for a while, but really, who’s going to look up a tree for a skinny little brat?

Watching the sunrise still feels like a punch to the chest, leaving me utterly breathless in the face of its beauty. I hadn’t even realised what I had until it was gone, in the dark future, and now that I knew—I couldn’t simply let it drip from my hands like sand in an hourglass.

For now, it could just be me, my thoughts, and sitting in a tree watching the sunrise. Appreciating the beautiful things given to me by the world as the treasures they are. 

~~~

When David had complained about life being boring recently, he had _not meant_ for the universe to _take that as a challenge_.

“Duck!”

Blood roaring in his ears, he dives forward as one of Letoile’s needles pierces the air where his head had been moments before. There’s an ear-piercing shriek, and something wet and disgusting splatters over David’s back. He grimaces, rolling to his feet. 

“This is not what I had in mind,” he says breathlessly, “when I asked Captain Vangeance for something _interesting to do!”_

Letoile glares at him over the rim of her glasses, mana flaring as she manifests more needles. “I entirely blame you,” she says, flicking the needles off into the underbrush almost flippantly, except that David _knows_ that Letoile never fucking misses what she aims at--the shrieks, squelching, and thumps as bodies hit the ground attest to that. 

“Oh, come on, Letoile,” he complains. “I asked for interesting, not for _absolutely fucking horrifying_! Very much not my fault.”

“Chameleon-wasps,” Letoile says bluntly, still glaring at him. “ _Chameleon-wasps_ , David.”

There’s the delicate _thrum_ of wasp wings, echoing louder and louder through the trees, and David makes a face.

“Exterminate the damn wasp nest,” he mutters. “How the hell are we supposed to do that when we can’t get near the fucking thing?”

Letoile opens her mouth as if to answer, but as she does there’s the tell-tale shimmer behind her, and David acts without thinking. She goes down with a yelp as he bowls them both over, the disguised form of the chameleon-wasp swooping through where they’d _just been_ , and David winces at the white-hot line of pain that shoots over his shoulder. Scrambling to his feet, he flares his mana, Grimoire pages flipping rapidly.

“Dice Magic: _Gambler’s Fallacy_!” he declares, tossing his die. The blast is--thankfully--a high roll, obliterating the wasp and leaving smoking branches behind. Letoile grunts as she pushes herself up, brushing the dirt from her uniform. David looks around warily, gritting his teeth at the pain that lances from his shoulder down to his fingertips.

“You could’ve just attacked it,” Letoile says critically, pushing her glasses back up. “Rather than put yourself in danger.”

“I panicked, okay?” David shrugs, and then bites back the gasp of agony when his shoulder flares white-hot with pain. “Ow, ow--shouldn’t have done that, should _not_ have done that--”

The _thrum_ of the chameleon-wasps is growing louder. They’ve managed to outrun the worst of the nest so far, but if they don’t get moving--that won’t last much longer. It doesn’t help that they’re already both tired, having had run-ins with the _other_ not-so-nice wildlife in the area. It _also_ doesn’t help that their third got separated from them, and David is _worried_ because while Daraen isn’t _stupid_ by any means he also can have the sense God gave to a lemming on occasion. Especially when his sister isn’t around to reign in his sillier ideas. At least his Lightning Magic should hold up against the chameleon-wasps fairly well.

“We need to loop back around,” Letoile says, looking around. “With the swarm chasing us—“

“You want to go _back to the nest_?” David demands, because surely he didn’t just hear those words come from her mouth.

_You’re supposed to be the smart one!_

“Our mission is to destroy the nest—kill the queen, and the nest will destroy itself in due time.” Letoile sounds so—calm. If David didn’t know her so well, he’d almost miss the quaver of nerves under her calm that betrays how stressed out she actually is.

“Why don’t we focus on getting away from the _swarm_ first?” David asks pointedly, gesturing to where the _thrum_ is steadily getting louder. 

“Sounds like you two’re in a pickle.”

 _Who the_ fuck— _!_

They both whirl around at the same time, magic flaring—Letoile calling her needles, David’s holding his die—ready to attack whoever fucking _snuck_ up on them, seriously, how did they _do that_ —?

It’s. A kid.

He raises his eyebrow at them, as if to say _really?_ And David just—can’t. The fuck is a kid—a peasant kid, if he’s reading the clothing right—doing out in the Neutral Zone, where there’s a chameleon-wasp nest big enough to warrant the Magic Knights being called in to help?

Unsurprisingly, Letoile is the first to go for the kid’s throat. “What is a child doing out here?” she demands, letting the needles dissipate. “This is no place for foolishness.”

The kid doesn’t bother answering, just tilts his head, peering past them to where the _thrum_ of wasp-wings is almost unnervingly loud now. His hair is this tangled mess of unruly curls, longer in the front, and his expression when he looks back to them is almost unnervingly familiar. It’s almost like he’s saying _honestly, why I even bother with you._

Condescending little brat.

“Kid,” David says, because even if the kid _is_ a peasant, he’d rather not have to explain to Captain Vangeance why there was a kid killed on their mission. “Seriously, this isn’t the time for fucking around.”

The kid pins him with eyes so blue it almost makes him think of the sky--much as it makes him sound like Lilian’s trashy novellas--and sighs.

“Look, do you want help or no?” he asks, propping one hand on his hip, just above the small bag belted there. “‘Cause it sounds like you could use it.”

The _thrum_ is close, now, and David--he’s already in pain, stressed, and this kid is starting to tap dance on his last nerve. Letoile looks like she’s about to use her magic to throw the kid halfway across the kingdom when the kid just--flickers. Suddenly, he’s _way_ up in their faces, a deceptively bony hand grasping David’s wrist in a bruising grip, and then--

David’s stomach lurches, the world _twists_ , and suddenly they’re not where they were before. The _thrum_ is still loud, but not-as-loud, and before David can say a word the world _twists_ again in a shimmer of color and they’ve moved again, and again, and _again_ . David’s stomach rebels, and he gets a bare moment to realize what’s happening before he’s doubled over, losing what little he’d had that morning onto the kid’s _bare-fucking-feet_.

When he finally manages to get himself back under control, it’s to Letoile having pinned the kid to a tree with a needle, a thunderous scowl on her face.

“What did you _do_?” she’s demanding, and the kid makes a face at her.

“I helped,” he says, rolling his eyes. “That swarm was about to catch you both, and I sort of figured you didn’t _want_ to become--what were those, wasps?--whatever-they-were’s food. The hells did you do to piss ‘em off?”

“And to David?” Letoile continues, a needle manifesting just under the kid’s chin. David’s gotta give it to him, he’s a ballsy little brat, because he just tips his head back disdainfully and eyes Letoile like she’s a moron. Balls of brass, that one.

“Motion-sickness, probably,” the kid says blandly. “It happens when I skip people with me, sometimes.” 

David takes this moment, before Letoile can decide to outright murder the peasant kid, to stand up, wiping his mouth. He grimaces at the sour-bitter taste of bile on his tongue. 

“I’m fine, Letoile,” he says, even though he’s still trembling, muscles shaking. “I don’t think he did it on purpose.” Letoile doesn’t take her eyes off the kid, who makes a frustrated noise. 

“Look, you were both about to get mobbed, I stepped in to help--and now you’re tryin’ to kill me?” he demands, and David finally registers the strange twist on the kid’s accent. A burr, almost, that he knows for _certain_ isn’t from the Clover Kingdom. David can’t see Letoile’s face, but he’s certain she’s caught it too. “Gods, what is it with cape-y jerks? First that purple guy and now I try an’ help you and this is what I get.”

There’s--something about that statement that pings at David’s brain, but he’s way too tired to process it right now. He just wants to destroy the damn nest, get Daraen--presuming he’s not mobbed and dead--and go _home_. Take a bath, get his shoulder healed. The basics in life.

“Letoile,” David says, looking at her meaningfully, and she grimaces.

“I know,” she says, and the needles menacing the kid dissipate. “If you try to harm us,” she adds, looking at the kid coldly, “I won’t hesitate.”

The kid shrugs, shaking one foot absently. “Whatever you say,” he says, and David almost wants to shake him because angsty teenagers aren’t cool, and he and Letoile are good, but if this kid goes sprinting into danger like that again, who’s to say they’ll be able to help him? Nevermind that the kid’s just a peasant, even with that weird-ass magic.

“Anyway!” David says brightly, forcing himself to be cheerful, because really. This is _not_ how he wanted to spend his day. “We need to get moving, before that swarm gets close again.”

The kid gives him a weird look. “Why? They’re not going to find you unless you do something stupid again.”

“What do you mean by that?” David asks, straightening himself out. The kid makes a noise in the back of his throat, and David winces because if _he’d_ ever acted like that his nanny would’ve boxed his ears. 

“Wasps track prey by visuals and scent trail in general,” the kid says, tilting his head. “And while I’ve never seen them myself, from what I’ve read chameleon-wasps track attackers by a tracker pheromone in their stings or by a mix of visuals and the smell of the attackers.”

David feels a chill run down his spine, even as his shoulder radiates pain. “Tracker pheromone?” he asks, and the kid waves a hand dismissively. 

“It’s usually from a full sting, not a graze,” he says. “Though you’ve got bigger problems if you were stung than being chased, usually.”

Letoile holds up a hand. “What does that have to do with them no longer finding us?” she interrupts, and the kid makes a frustrated noise, as if irritated they’re not keeping up.

“There’s no scent trail for them to follow now,” he explains, crossing his arms. “I skipped us a ways out of their path--they’re meters out that way,” he adds, gesturing to his left.

“How far?” David asks without thinking, because--that’s impressive, for a peasant. The kid shrugs.

“Maybe thirty, forty meters? I can’t jump as far when I’m bringing people with me.”

That’s. _What_.

David shares a look with Letoile, because he can _tell_ she’s as taken aback by the admission as he is. Thirty, forty meters? Without even using his Grimoire? That’s a versatile magic that’s just _wasted_ on peasants. If this kid is old enough, why the fuck isn’t he in the Magic Knights? 

“Anyway,” the kid continues, heedless of their shock, “I can get you guys to the nest--probably inside it too--but if it’s too far we’ll have to walk if you want me to actually get you guys inside of it.”

“We can fly to it,” David says, shaking his head. Fuck, his shoulder _hurts_. Is it swelling? He’s pretty sure it’s swelling. “It’s hard to miss from the sky.”

“Fly?” the kid looks at David like he’s insane. “How?”

~~~

“So what’s your name, kid?” David asks, peering over to where the kid is perched behind Letoile, looking around with bright eyes. The kid looks over at him, staring blankly for a second. 

“Uh--Rei. My name’s Rei.” 

“And what are you doing in the Neutral Zone?” Letoile asks, and David winces at the strain in her voice. They only have the two brooms, so one of them had to cart the kid with them. The kid glances at her, something calculating flickering in those blue eyes, but shrugs again regardless.

“Couldn’t stay where I was, so I’m wandering,” he says quietly. “Hoping I’ll be able to find my way home on the way.” The kid’s curly hair is a tousled mess, which quickly gets worse as he runs a hand through it roughly. “Just ended up stumbling on you guys.”

Letoile hums. “And where’s home for you?” she asks sternly, but David’s too--caught on what he’d just seen to follow the kid’s response. In the wake of Captain Gueldre Poirot’s reveal to be a money grubbing _traitor_ , and his whirlwind replacement with Captain Granvorka, there had been one order passed down from the Captains, from the Wizard King himself:

_“Any who have pointed ears are to be brought in for questioning. These individuals may have red facial tattoos, and connections to the terrorist group that attacked the capital.”_

David can still remember the look in Captain Vangeance’s eyes when he’d passed the order on. And--he thinks he maybe understands that look now. This is a _kid_ , who’s volunteered to help them, but now that he’s seen the kid’s ears...it’s all sent into question. Any trust David may have had in the kid is suspect now, because Rei could just be using them.

What could make a kid decide to join a terrorist organization? 

And while the kid doesn’t have the red tattoos, there’s most definitely pointed ears, and scars trailing from the kid’s cheek down his throat. The faintest hint of more scars along the back of his neck, barely obscured by the kid’s fluffy curls. God above, David’s pretty sure just looking at him he doesn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds wet, he’s so damn skinny.

“--no surname?” David tunes back in to hear Letoile say, still keeping up the conversation like the amazing person she is while he’d been caught on his sudden discovery. David watches Rei shrug, the wry smile flickering over his face twisted at one corner by the scars on his face. And even that’s eerily familiar, which-- _really doesn’t help_. 

“If I ever had one, I don’t remember it,” Rei explains lightly. “Some friends told me I could use theirs if I wanted to, but I never really saw the point.”

“Oh?” David asks, watching the kid’s face as he turns to look at David.

“Yeah, well--surnames are supposed to talk about your family, right? Where you’re from.” Rei waves a hand dismissively. “I don’t need a surname to talk about that.”

David--can’t really process that. Not under the sick feeling in his stomach, processing the fact that they’re going to have to bring this kid in for questioning, that this kid is probably connected to the terrorists that attacked the capital. He takes a deep breath, trying to will away the bone deep aching pain in his shoulder.

One thing at a time--first, the chameleon-wasps. Then, they can figure out how to handle the kid. 

“...hey, question.” Rei tilts his towards David, eyes fixed on something behind him. 

“Yes?” David responds, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the problem?”

“Random electrical storms aren’t normal around here either, right?”

David blinks and turns--and sure enough. The flash of brilliant amber lightning is more relieving than he’d thought it’d be. It crackles through the air, arcing and spiking, and David turns his broom towards it. 

“It’s Daraen!” he exclaims, looking to Letoile, whose face has softened in relief. She smiles at him before turning back to where the lightning had appeared from.

“A friend of yours?” Rei asks as they change course, eyeing them both curiously. 

“A squadmate,” David supplies. “We were separated when the swarm attacked.”

“...squadmate. Right. So I’m guessing we’re going to go help this ‘Daraen’, and then go and try to get rid of the nest.” 

“We’re not leaving him behind,” Letoile says, giving Rei a sharp look over her shoulder, and the kid blinks at her. 

“I...never said you were going to?” he sounds confused. “Just making sure we’re on the same page, _before_ we end up fighting chameleon-wasps out for blood.” David tosses Letoile a grin.

“Go easy on the kid, he’s from the boonies.” Even so--he can’t help watching the kid from the corner of his eye warily. So close to Letoile’s back, if the kid decides to go for backstabbing. Not that he seems the type, but…David’s priority is keeping his squad safe. He’s loyal to Captain Vangeance, and to the Golden Dawn. Just because the kid seems like a good kid doesn’t mean he’ll hesitate if he turns out to be a terrorist.

The Golden Dawn has been more his family than his own family ever was. And he’s going to pay that back, every inch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious, the poem excerpt is from Robert Louis Stevenson's _Songs of Travel_. The link to the whole set of poems is [here](https://www.gutenberg.org/files/487/487-h/487-h.htm), through Project Gutenberg. The excerpt is specifically from no. XVI.  
> Text from the poems is notably set in Ralph Vaugn Williams's song cycle of the same name, _Songs of Travel_ , beginning with _The Vagabond_. It's really some lovely poetry, and I highly recommend it as reading or listening material depending on your preferences.

**Author's Note:**

> So this AU/fusion came to me one morning, right after I woke up, and four hours later I already had over a page's worth of notes. And over 2,000 words written.  
> So enjoy this _extremely_ niche crossover brain-child of mine, and hopefully follow along.  
> I'm just here to have fun.  
> Other notes:  
> If anyone wants a name-key for who's who (since this is a fusion, and a lot of Pokemon names don't really translate well to people-names) I can post a character bio thing as another part of a series. But...I'm kind of interested to see who can figure out what name is which PMD2 character. Feel free to leave a comment with your guesses.


End file.
